Vulnerable
by DearCassius
Summary: The Avengers have been defeated and are now suffering in their various prisons. Earth has fallen under the command of a ruthless dictator. But even when all hope seems lost, a whisper of a rebellion finds its way to the surface. Sequel to "Vindicated".
1. Prologue

_**WARNING: This is the sequel to "Vindicated". If you haven't read that, please do so before continuing on with this. Thank you!**_

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_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

Temporary relief as the bowl caught the droplets, and then the cycle repeated itself.

_Drip.  
><em>  
>"Andelyn," the huddled man finally croaked out as another trickle of venom seared his raw skin.<p>

The pale, shaken girl squeezed her dull eyes shut as she once more brought the bowl to catch the minuscule drops. One by one, they splashed into the shallow basin, quickly filling it to the brim. Cringing, she pulled the bowl out from the path of the drops and walked away to empty it in the ever-expanding pool of poison.

The pain hit him once more, searing his already raw skin. Quickly, she turned to face him, carrying the empty wooden bowl towards him again. There was a cooling sense of relief as she suspended it back in place.

On the surface, his punishment was simple: suffer under the wretched snake for the rest of his existence. Honestly, that he could handle. The physical pain was nothing. No, the underlying punishment was far worse.

Of course, they had to bring her into it. He had begged his captors to release her, offering his life to them, but they had only sneered and laughed at his pathetic pleas. Now he was forced to watch her wither away in this miserable hell-hole day after day. Though their captors had placed an immortality spell on her, he knew it wouldn't last much longer. She would die; crumble slowly into nothing while he couldn't do anything but watch. It was the worst kind of torture, looking on as someone you love suffers.

"Leave me. _Escape_," he ordered, but yet again, his commands fell deaf to her ears. Ande's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't look at him. She obviously couldn't stand the sight of his gaunt face anymore, and he didn't blame her. His once handsome features had been twisted over the years of being drenched in the venom. Given time, the scars and raw skin would heal, but there _was_ no time.

It might seem impossible to keep track of the days in this cave that no natural sunlight reached, but somehow, she had developed a system counting the drops of venom in order to measure the time. She would dig a notch in the sides of her bowl for each day that passed.

They had endured this for three and a half years today.

After all, they had both sworn to be together for better and for worse.

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_**Author's Note: **_**Oh look, I'm back, writing an unnecessary sequel once more. Anyways, yeah, it's super short. But this is just the prologue, and I promise that future chapters will be much longer. **

**Please review and tell me what you think. I'm hoping that this will do better than any of my previous stories.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Sofia**


	2. Chapter 1

**Vulnerable, Chapter 1**

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><strong>  
>The night had been absolutely wonderful.<p>

After two years of dating and another year of being engaged, Loki and I were finally married.

The ceremony had been beautiful. Loki's family had spared no expense in securing everything needed to ensure that it was the best wedding (and perhaps the only) ever to occur between a Greek demigod and a Norse prince.

And now, as the reception in the open air of a California vineyard dwindled to a close, I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Everyone was here- my few mortal friends, the Avengers, my mortal parents, and even Athena, my biological goddess mother. We had sent her an invitation, but I was still surprised to see her arrive with the rest of our guests. Thankfully, she hadn't made a single rude remark to any of the Aesir, though the night was still young.

After having been passed around to what seemed like every man who had come to the wedding, Loki had insisted on one last dance with me before we departed on our honeymoon.

We swayed to the quiet piano music that was playing in the background, perfectly content. The sweet smelling breeze lightly ruffled my white dress, causing the tiny gems on it to sparkle in the dim light of a thousand floating candles.

"Are you ready to go, love?" Loki leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Mmm," I murmured, eyes half closed. Loki chuckled and pulled me closer to him, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head.

His lips froze against my hair, and I felt his shoulders suddenly tense up. He raised his head back up to stare at something behind me. I tried to turn to see what it was, but his grip tightened around my waist.

"What's wrong?" I said in a low tone, staring up at his face to try and catch his gaze. Even though I couldn't directly look into them, I could tell his eyes were flaming.

He slightly crouched down. "There is a man directly behind you who is cleverly concealing a throwing knife. No, don't look now. Just do exactly as I tell you as soon as I tell you to do it. Do you understand?" He had said this so quietly and so quickly, I had to strain my ears to catch it all.

Panic gripped my heart as it sunk in. I nodded mutely in horror and he straightened back up. I should've known. We'd been expecting an attack for days, but honestly; this was a wedding. Bad guys have _no_ courtesy whatsoever.

We continued to do an awkward shuffle in which Loki kept his eyes intently trained on the mystery man, moving his lips rapidly, as if he were talking to himself. I went over several plans in my head, in case worst came to worst.

Looking back, I suppose it made sense for them to crash my wedding. All of the Avengers were here, guards down, completely and entirely vulnerable to their attack. Alright, I thought, no problem. We've done this hundreds of times. We'll kick some bad-guy butt, and hopefully get in one last dance before we had to leave.

The outcome turned out to be the absolute opposite from what I thought.

"Duck, _now_!" Loki said sharply, shoving my shoulders down, so I was sprawled on the floor. Something fast whizzed over my head. In my surprised and slightly shocked daze, I watched as Loki preformed some spell that blocked the knife and sent it flying back to its owner. I didn't see if it hit its mark.

Loki grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet, which was no easy task in my rather puffy dress. My fingers flew up to my owl pendant (courtesy of my mother) and ripped it from my neck. It transformed into a gleaming bronze sword, complete with a worn, leather wrapped hilt.

From the sides, more of these men sprung out from their disguises as innocent party goers, all wielding high-tech and dangerous looking guns. They advanced towards us.

A pinging sound rang out from behind us, and a blast of light flew past, knocking a few of these men to the ground, where they ceased to move. Tony, in his metal suit, tromped up, hand stretched out to fire again.

"Who are they?" he shouted over the chaos and screams of the other people attending the reception.

"No idea," Loki yelled back as Thor and Steve both dashed towards us, both still wearing their formal suits.

"Let's split up to take them down," Steve said as quietly as possible. "Loki and Thor, take the South side of the garden. Tony and I will cover North, and Ande, find Clint, Bruce, and Natasha. Go!"

We did as he told us to, and went our separate ways. I kicked off my stupid high heels so I could move faster. I scanned the mess of a party room, craning my neck to see over the heads of those rushing around me to find Clint and Natasha. They were nowhere to be seen.

Fearing the worst, I spun around to go the opposite way, only to find myself blocked by a solid wall of black suits. I stumbled back a few steps, but knocked into another wall. I turned in a slow circle, sword raised in a defensive position, but one of the men lunged forward and knocked the blade out of my hands. Swiftly, another man jerked my wrists behind my back and clasped a pair of metal handcuffs on me. His sour smelling breath sickened me.

I tried kicking out with my bare feet, but it didn't help. There was nothing left to do, so I yelled, "Loki!" at the top of my lungs. The only thing that accomplished was making my captors laugh at my stupid attempt to be rescued. The few in front of me moved to show me the rest of the room.

Our mortal party guests, and Athena, were gone. The Avengers had been caught. All of them- Thor, Steve, Tony, and Loki- were in the same situation as I was.

Loki was struggling against his captors, fighting frantically to break free and get to me. Thor was knocked out with some sort of super powerful drug. Tony had been tazed, no doubt, judging from the way he was drooling onto the dance floor. Steve was standing diligently, though he was obviously thinking hard on a plan to get us out of this mess.

My mind reeled with confusion. We had never lost a fight- _ever_, especially one as simple as this. What did they have that we didn't? What had gone so wrong?

The dozen men that were holding me began to drag me backwards, away from Loki, away from my teammates. One of them pulled a cloth out and pressed it over my mouth. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform filled my nose, and my last conscious thought was how screwed my whole situation really was.

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_**Author's Note:**_** First, I'd like to apologize for the ridiculously long wait between chapters. It's just... Sherlock. That's my only excuse. Oh, and my mom took our laptop with her to Florida, leaving me with no means of updating. But mostly, Sherlock is the reason for the wait.**

**Second, thank you so much for the reviews for the prologue! They were very inspirational and I loved each and every one of them.**

**Third, I promise that I'll start posting the chapters more quickly from now on. I'm so sorry.**

**Thanks for reading and please review! If you have any suggestions or ideas, I'm happy to consider them.**

**-SketchbookPianist **


	3. Chapter 2

**Vulnerable, Chapter 2**  
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The first thing I noticed as I came to was my massive headache. It pounded against my skull. What caused it? Why did it feel like I had a concussion?

The second thing I realized was that, yes, I did have a concussion. Probably caused from the chloroform making me black-out, coupled with the fact that no one had bothered to catch me as I fell.

The third thing I remembered was how my wedding had been completely crashed by some unknown party. Oh, and I had also been kidnapped.

I snapped my eyes open, but immediately regretted that decision, because the bright white lights above me burned into my retinas. If it was even possible, my headache worsened. I tried to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the cursed light, but I only found that had been strapped down to the uncomfortable table-thing I was currently reclined on. I tried kicking my leg. Strapped down as well.

Dejectedly, I let my head fall back on the cold surface underneath me until my eyes adjusted themselves to the light.

When I could see again, I glanced around the room I was contained it. It was drafty, with steel plated walls and other tables covered in various equipment. One of them held a selection of electric drills and several boxes of what I could only assume were drill bits.

The table directly to the left of me was stacked with hammers of various sizes and containers of rusty nails. At least, I thought it was rust, but the more I studied them, the more I was convinced that it wasn't rust at all.

Truthfully, it looked quite a bit like blood.

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut broke me from my horrified musings. Boots clicked across the linoleum floor towards me. I turned my head to see who it was.

He was short, pudgy, with a pug-face and a lab coat. A pair of glasses hung from his neck on a crude leather lanyard. He held a small, cracked clipboard and a broken pencil. The name on his name tag was smudged to the point where I could no longer read it. Or maybe it was just my minor case of dyslexia acting up again.

"Ah, Miss Hanson- or should I say Mrs. Odinson now? Dear me, you grew up fast, didn't you?" the man said, reading from his clipboard.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to keep calm. Though he looked harmless, there was something about this man that made me nervous.

He looked at me and smiled condescendingly. "Confidential."

"Who are you?" I managed to get out.

"Confidential," he said again, his lips still pulled in a taught grin.

"Can you tell me anything?" I asked, frustrated. Absently, I began to drum my fingers on the table.

"Well, I can tell you what procedure my boss decided on for you." He consulted his clipboard again. "Yes, it appears you're scheduled for a nailing before you go to your new home. Good; nailings are my favorite."

"My new what?" I asked.

"Home," he replied shortly, setting his belongings down on an empty table. Then he turned to examine the hammers. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally selected a roughly hewn one made of steel and a matching nail.

"Open wide." He turned back around, holding his tools aloft.

"What? No," I said defiantly. What was this guy playing at?

His face gained a look of fake pity. "Then you leave me no choice, sweetheart." He pulled a short, metal rod out of his lab coat pocket.

I finally realized what he was going to do.

He reached his hand over to my mouth and forced my lips apart. I took the opportunity and bit down on his fingers, but he only chuckled. "You're a feisty one. No problem; I'll fix you up right now."

He then proceeded to wrench my teeth apart, wedge his metal post in there so I couldn't close it, and nail my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

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Blindfolded, Loki was led into a tiny cave, chained to a rock, and was forced to sit there for three hours before his captors had the decency to explain what was going on.

When they finally removed the blindfold, Loki couldn't see a thing. The cave was pitch black; so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, if he had been able to move his hand at all. At the moment, both of his hands were cuffed behind his back in the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

But still, he kept his cool.

A candle flickered on, filling the cavern with a dim light. Each of his captors was wearing a black suit, complete with masks that covered their entire heads. It was reminiscent of an executioner.

"Loki Odinson," the tallest one said. His deep voice echoed through the cave. "It is time for you to face the consequences of your actions."

"Yes, of course." Loki rolled his eyes. This was so cliché.

"Don't be cheeky with us," another person said. This time, it was a high-pitched female voice that came from under the cap. That surprised Loki- he had assumed that all of his jailers were men.

"And if I am?" he replied sardonically.

"It's best you don't find out." Even under the mask, Loki could tell she was smirking.

From the pocket of another person's suit, the woman drew out something writhing. A low hiss escaped the creature's mouth as she held it up to the light.

It was clearly a snake, though what she planned to do with it, Loki was unsure.

She made her motives more clear when she reached above his head and fixed the snake to the branch jutting out from the cave wall.

A small drop of venom dribbled from the snake's mouth and fell onto Loki's forehead.

It seared into his skin, and almost caused him to wince, but even still, he kept his head straight.

They noticed that the venom had little effect on the god of mischief and sniggered amongst themselves. It was all Loki could do not to scoff at how moronic these people were. If he were an evil dictator aspiring to rule the world, he wouldn't hire such stupid employees. He also figured that he'd be a tad more creative. Another drop of venom fell, this time burning into his shoulder. Again, he almost cried out, but caught himself at the last moment.

"Not enough pain for you, eh?" one from the back of the group sneered. "What do you think of this, then?"

And they brought her forward.

"Ande?"

His captors laughed heartily, shoving her so she stumbled and fell to her knees in front of the god of mischief, allowing him a better look at his wife.

Thick trails of blood ran down the sides of her mouth. Some of it had dried onto her skin, but fresh blood was still making its way down her face. Unshed tears of pain and humiliation had gathered in her frightened eyes, but she only stared at the ground, refusing to look up at him.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded furiously. "How dare you?" He began to struggle against his bonds, but it was no use. However, this didn't stop him from trying to break free. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to strangle each and every one of them for hurting his Ande.

The woman in the front drew a shallow wooden bowl from her pocket and tossed it at his head. It bounced off and clattered on the stone floor. Shaking violently, Ande picked it up, stood weakly, and held it to catch the venom still dribbling from the ugly snake's mouth.

"Enjoy the rest of your lives, kids!" one of them giggled. "We'd love to stay and chat, but it seems you're a bit preoccupied at the moment." The others laughed in response to this.

That said, Loki's group of executioners exited the cave, leaving the ever-burning candle- the only source of light he'd see in a long time- flickering in their wake.

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**_Author's Note: _I'm feeling a bit evil today, if you can't tell. Causing my characters to suffer through immense amounts of pain is one of my favorite hobbies. It also makes for an interesting plot. **

**Speaking of interesting things, I have something to tell you guys! I've started writing a new story for the BBC Sherlock Television series, and if any of you watch that show, I'd be delighted if you'd check it out when I get around to posting the first chapter. Of course, this will in no way effect the updating schedule of Vulnerable, which is my top priority story-wise. **

_**Anonymous Review Responses: **_

**Thalassa J- Thanks for the reviews! Concerning your first review, I think you should totally go for writing/posting your Thor/PJO crossover. We need more of those. I would definitely read it. (you also should get an account- just saying.)**

**Anonymous Loki Fangirl- Thank you for your reviews! I appreciate them, honestly. **

**Thanks for reading everyone, and please review!**

**-Sofia**


	4. Chapter 3

**Vulnerable, Chapter 3**

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One day.

A week.

One month.

Two.

Six months.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Splash._

_Drip._

One year.

It had been an entire year, to the date. Their first anniversary, and they were spending it together in the most brutal way possible.

No news reached them in this cave. No one spoke to them. They were alone. Dear Hela, Loki didn't even know where they _were_. They could be on another _realm_ for all he knew. His magic was unusable, thanks to the ever-cold chains that bound him to the insufferable rock.

He had watched her carefully. At first she had been only slightly shaky, but still determined to do her job in preventing the pain from attacking him. She had stood straight, walking confidently, tracks of blood still running down from the corners of her lips. She obviously assumed that they would escape soon.

She was wrong.

It was six months in when she had finally begun to lose hope. Suddenly, her back started slouching over, not all at once- no, just a bit, day by say. The curve became more prominent as time wore on. Her face, once filled with the determination he admired in her, had been wiped away. Now she was just a blank slate.

Her bright eyes gradually dulled to the point where she was almost unrecognizable. And then her hair started falling out. Her delicate light brown curls were now lank and thinned out, hanging in a sheet around her face.

It broke his heart to see her, his _wife_, suffering like this.

And so he tried to talk to her. He knew she couldn't answer- they had done something to her mouth that prevented all forms of speech. Neither of them knew sign language, so that clearly wouldn't work.

Everyday, without fail, he would tell her to leave him; to escape.

And everyday, without fail, she wouldn't budge from her position.

The pool of poison was expanding rapidly, as it was unable to evaporate. Loki had done a calculation in his head and knew that, within ten years, it would have spread to fill their entire cave. In fifteen, it would be ankle deep.

What a simply_ repulsive_ punishment this was.

**0-0-0-0**

Thor's shoulders ached. His knees were bent in an uncomfortable position. The weight of the sky was crushing him, day by day, despite his god-like strength.

He wished he had Loki with him. Or Jane. Or anyone, really. He wanted to see a real human being for once, instead of images on television that had been placed in front of him. The channel was constantly stuck on the nightly news, displaying the current state of the world.

Riots were breaking out in the street. Mass murders and genocide were common things to witness on the news these days. He watched as innocent people were shot on camera. He looked on helplessly as buildings were exploded, the inhabitants still stuck inside.

And it _hurt._

It hurt his heart to watch all the murder and destruction of the humans he had come to love. He cared about them so much, though he stubbornly wouldn't admit it to anyone else. These were people just like Jane, and Darcy, and the son of Coul, and even Tony Stark. They were _dying_ and he couldn't do a thing about it.

It almost distracted from the pressing weight of the sky that he was forced to hold.

**0-0-0-0**

Tony Stark paced around the cell they were keeping him in.

Of course, he could have escaped by now.

But he still refrained from doing so.

His punishment for being an Avenger was far less painful for him than it was for any of the others. All he had to do was invent things for the new military system, and in turn, he was given comfortable lodgings and a large workshop.

It was fair by no means, laying about here while his team suffered. He knew, however, that his escape would only make things twenty times worse for everyone else. He convinced himself that, when the time was right, he would leave and save the others. He just had to wait for that time.

That thought didn't do a thing to relieve the guilt plaguing the heart that many were certain he _didn't_ have.

**0-0-0-0**

Time moves on, even in the harshest of conditions. Even when it seems that all hope is lost. Even when you wish it would stop forever, just to cease the eternal suffering of mankind.

Yet, the never-tiring feet of time press forward, each day bringing forth new horrors and terrors to endure.

But deep in a remote mountain range, something dangerous has sparked. It is just the faintest whisper, nothing more than a tiny feather against the stream of bullets being fired against it.

It is the resistance. The rebellion.

And the demon that is time still moves on, nurturing this idea. It grows larger, still undetected by its enemy. While the world outside is torn apart by the ruthless dictators that now command it, it remains safe, protected against the torrent that will inevitably come.

Yes, even in the very depths of despair and darkness, there is always a small shred of light. One only has to remember to look for it.

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_**Author's Note:**_** Well, how's that for a dark chapter? I hope you enjoyed. My thanks go out to Chick With Brains, who gave me a review that sparked an idea for this chapter.**

**My thanks also go out to each and every one of you who reviewed the previous chapter. You know who you are, and I appreciate you all so much.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	5. Chapter 4

**Vulnerable, Chapter 4**

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Footsteps echoed down the stony passage. They were short, tense, hurried, and unfamiliar. Clint was no master at deducing, but he'd been in his little prison cell long enough to be able to recognize the various footsteps of his jailers. A shred of hope filled him- maybe he was about to be rescued. With the back of his hand, he wiped away blood from the most recent whip lashing.

Information, they said. They only wanted information. If he gave it to them, he'd be free to go.

But Clint Barton was a loyal agent.

He stayed strong, even through all sorts of torture.

The footsteps drew nearer, coming to a halt in front of his cell. "Come with me, Barton," the stranger said, breaking the dreary silence. He had a thick German accent- too thick to be natural.

Clint cracked a smile, wincing as it pulled at a cut near his lips. "You _suck _at faking accents, Banner."

There was a short pause. Clint panicked internally; maybe he'd gotten it wrong. Admitting that you wanted to be rescued? That deserved at least an hour in the burning room. The bosses didn't like the idea that they were vulnerable enough to be taken over.

But then-

"Was I really _that _obvious?"

**0-0-0-0**

The SHIELD helicarrier hovered somewhere above central Greenland. Nobody knew it was there, and that was how it was supposed to be.

Director Nick Fury paced up and down one of the skinny corridors, alone, and that was also how it was supposed to be. He needed to be alone. He needed to think.

It had been five long, lonely years since his world was taken over by that dreadful HYDRA leader and his army. Fury's team had been removed from the map. He had spent these five years searching for them, looking for even a tiny glimpse that they were still alive, but despite his efforts, they were all gone.

Well, except for one Tony Stark.

Speak of the devil-

"Hey, Fury!"

-and the devil shall appear.

"What do you _want_, Stark?" the director snapped, whirling to face the only Avenger left. "I'm trying to think."

Tony snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine, I guess you don't want to know that we have a hit, then."

Fury paused, his rage cooling instantly. He narrowed his good eye, glaring at the former billionaire genius.

"What hit?" he growled, stepping closer to Tony. "I swear, Stark, if this is a joke-"

"Relax, Nicky," Tony said with an eye roll. "I wouldn't be joking about this. We have an approximate location on Captain Rogers' whereabouts."

**0-0-0-0**

Loki hissed as the searing venom splashed him again. Two years ago, that small noise of pain would have made Ande flinch. Now she just stared at the wall, emotionless. She was broken, a lifeless doll. And that scared Loki more than anything.

It meant that she was unreachable. It meant that she was one step closer to crumbling into dust. The immortality potion she had been given over five years ago was wearing off.

After all this time in the nearly silent cave, the bowl made a seemingly earsplitting noise when it cracked. A long fissure now scarred the once smooth wooden surface. Apparently, wood wasn't meant to hold a continuous stream of poisonous venom.

Loki figured the poor bowl had perhaps another two or three years before that crack spread and split the bowl into two. Would Ande even last that long? It was almost impossible for him to tell. People were much more difficult to read than objects, and that was further complicated when combined with an immortality potion he wasn't aware existed.

A small dribble of venom leaked from the new crack, burning into his skin. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look at his wife anymore.

Seeing her like this, well, he almost wished she would die already, no matter how much pain it would cause him.

At least then she would be at peace.

**0-0-0-0**

From her throne on Mount Olympus, Athena gazed sadly down at her daughter. Her poor daughter, the only child she had left. The rest had been brutally killed within the first year of the New World Order. It pained Athena to know that she couldn't help.

Mount Olympus had been sealed off by Lord Zeus almost immediately after the world had been over-turned. Apparently, he'd rather watch the mortals suffer than to risk losing any of the pantheon. Artemis and Apollo were still down there, though, but still, Zeus wouldn't open the gates to let them in.

Not that they wanted to be let in. They were helping the revolution while the rest of the Greeks were stuck up here. Athena would have given anything to be with her brother and sister right then.

Escape from Olympus was impossible by herself, even though she was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. However, with the help of a small, mortal woman, restoring the bridge from the mountain of the gods to Earth was growing more and more possible each day

**0-0-0-0**

Jane Foster-Odinson typed away rapidly at the prehistoric computer. She knew she shouldn't complain; this was the best computer the small group of rebels could grant her for her work. Still, it was slow and tedious to use.

An IM popped up from her new best friend. She scanned over it quickly with her intelligent eyes and sent a speedy reply. She grinned slightly- new information always made her giddy with excitement.

Within the next three years, Jane knew that the bridge to both Olympus and Asgard would be fixed. And then, the Illuminati and HYDRA would have hell to pay from a very angry astrophysicist.

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_**Author's Note:** _**I h****ope you guys know how sorry I am that it takes me so long to update this. I'm going to make an effort to get each chapter to you in a more timely fashion. Again, I'm very sorry about the wait for this.**

**Thank you all so much for reviewing, favoriting, and putting this on alert! It means so much to know that you like my work. You readers are the best.**

**Please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	6. Chapter 5

**Vulnerable, Chapter 5**

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It had been seven years, three months, and thirteen days when the bowl finally shattered. And when it shattered, so did Ande.

She had just emptied the wooden bowl and turned back to him when it split into a hundred pieces, showering the rock floor with splinters. There was a moment of shocked silence. Loki thought he saw the tiniest spark of light fill her eyes, but perhaps he had imagined it.

She fell to her knees, body trembling, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. Her fists clenched. Loki tried to call out to her, but his voice wasn't working properly.

And then...

She punched the ground with strength she hadn't had before. Her bony hands connected with the solid rock with so much force, a slight tremor ran throughout the cave.

But the small shake didn't stop there. It escalated, quickly transforming into a violent, full scale earthquake. The shaking continued for what seemed like ages. Ande didn't move from her spot on the ground. Loki strained against his bonds, fighting tooth and nail to get to her, to protect her from the chunks of stone falling from the ceiling. The pool of venom danced and sloshed, lapping up onto her ankles and searing them a bright red. The snake slithered down from its perch and crawled into a crevice to shield itself from the shaking.

Snap.

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin when his "unbreakable" bonds, well, _broke_. Suddenly, the earthquake halted. The pool stilled. A final rock broke from the stalactites on the ceiling and landed point down in the patch of mud not ten inches away from his wife.

The fallen god of mischief lurched forward, legs weak after years of not using them. He stumbled towards where Ande was still huddled on the floor and kneeled next to her.

Gingerly, he took her skeletal face in his hands and looked into her dull, frightened eyes for the first time in months. Then, he threw his arms around her and held her to his chest. He didn't say anything.

There was nothing he _could _say.

But they were free.

_Free._

**0-0-0-0**

Steve wandered aimlessly around the new SHIELD headquarters, located deep in the Rocky Mountains. There was nothing better to do. He'd just woken up from an almost year-long coma and was now adjusting to life once more.

He laughed bitterly at that. It wasn't the first time he'd had to be reintroduced to the world. He hoped it wasn't becoming a pattern.

According to Tony, they'd found him unconscious nearly nine months ago in the hands of his former prisoners. He didn't remember much of that, though, thankfully. Apparently, they'd been using him as a guinea pig, performing test after test on him, trying to find a way to replicate the super soldier serum. Mr. Stark then went on to sarcastically insult him that his head was too thick to extract anything, let alone the fabled serum.

Captain Rogers was so thankful that he'd been granted a second- or maybe third?- chance at life. He couldn't help but feel that this was partly his fault- he should have been able to protect his team better. Now half of it was most likely dead or unreachable, and the other half wasn't fit to fight any wars anytime soon.

If he'd acted quicker, there wouldn't be a New World Order, led in part by his old arch-enemy.

Steve eventually wandered back to his tiny quarters. His famous shield was gone, taken by the enemy and probably melted down. Tony mentioned he was working on something better, but it wouldn't be the same. That shield had seen him through countless battles. It pained him to know that the wedding had been its last.

He shuffled around miserably in the Iron Man patterned slippers that their namesake had granted him.

Yeah, this was his fault, but there was no way he was going to give up.

He was going to fix this, no matter the cost.

**0-0-0-0**

_"The White House"._

Pathetic.

The German lunatic kicked the chair that had once belonged to the former president. It toppled over with such force, it snapped into two pieces. The Red Skull sneered at the weak piece of furniture. It wasn't fit to hold him. It wasn't fit to hold an emperor.

The intercom overhead buzzed.

"Sir?" a nervous, gravelly voice questioned from the black speaker on the ceiling.

"What is it?" Red Skull snarled. "What do you what? I am busy."

There was a pause. "Sir, I don't think breaking furniture counts as being busy."

Red Skull chuckled darkly. "Back talking, eh? That is punishable by death."

"N-no, sir, sorry, sir. I didn't mean it!"

Red Skull strolled to his desk and with the flip of a switch, a blue button appeared. He placed his skeletal index finger over it, prepared to press it at a moment's notice.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," the speaker continued. "But we've had a break out."

"Who?" the German demanded, teeth clenched.

"It's the Greek girl and Loki."

"I thought you told me their prison was unbreakable." His fist clenched, finger still hovering over the button.

"Well, we thought it was-"

"Thinking isn't good enough!" Red Skull roared. He jabbed the button.

A gunshot was heard on the other side of the intercom.

Third intern this week.

Perhaps he should institute a more thorough screening system before he hired another.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
><strong>_**  
>Author's Note:<strong>_** I apologize about the short chapter, but it was either this or no updates for another month. This is the last time I'll be able to post until mid-May. I'm very sorry about that. However, I promise a much longer chapter when I am able to post again.**

**Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. The feedback I've been receiving is incredible. I'll try to type out some personal replies to reviews as soon as I can. Just know that all of you are appreciated. **

**I have a question for you: If I was to kill off two Avengers, which two would you rather have die? I'm not saying I'm going to kill anybody off, but I am curious. Leave a review with your answer!**

**Thanks for reading, and please review.**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	7. Chapter 6

**Vulnerable, Chapter 6**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Daylight was just breaking on the morning of December 5th when Loki, carrying an unconscious Ande, finally emerged from the cave they'd been imprisoned in for seven years.

Loki was able to pinpoint their location with supreme accuracy- it seemed as if his magic was beginning to return, one tiny bit at a time. It was slightly humorous for him to think that, though it felt like they were in a completely different universe, they hadn't even left the region formerly known as America.

More specifically: Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico.

They weren't more than one hundred miles from where Thor crash landed when Odin first banished him.

The wind outside was blissfully cool against his raw skin- which was healing rapidly, by the way. He could have stayed standing where he was for a while longer, but he knew he had to keep moving. Ande needed serious medical attention, and the longer they were out in the open, the more the danger grew.

They had to find some sort of shelter- and _soon_. His magic was no where near strong enough to transport them anywhere yet; though, he thought, he wouldn't know where to go even if it was a possibility.

Resigning himself to a long walk, he shifted Ande into a more comfortable position for the both of them and set off, heading north to a hopefully safer region.

**0-0-0-0**

He stuck to the shadows, wandering through a thin forest of juniper trees. The more he walked, the hotter it seemed to get, but that was likely caused by the exertion. Every now and then, he could feel a tiny amount of power trickle into his system, but it still wasn't enough to do much besides keep the both of them at a regulated temperature.

At the twenty mile mark, Ande finally came back to consciousness. She still wouldn't speak- the reason for which Loki would investigate when he stopped to rest- but she made it quite clear that she wanted to walk on her own. Loki scoffed on the outside, but was actually delighted. A bit of her usual stubbornness was starting to show through her feverish haze.

Loki, of course, refused her request, and she spent the next ten or so miles scowling. Eventually, she did fall back asleep. By the time they'd traveled forty miles, dusk was settling, and Loki figured it was as good a time as any to stop for the night.

Carefully, he lowered the unconscious daughter of Athena underneath a larger juniper tree and went about creating a makeshift shelter for the two of them. Well, the wigwam/teepee-thing he'd attempted ended up collapsing halfway through building, so he gave up on that endeavor and decided to look for food instead.

He'd be the first to admit that he was no skilled scavenger. Unlike Thor, who was surprisingly stealthy when it came to hunting, the god of mischief had little tolerance for such things.

Meat was obviously out of the question; aside from the fact that the area was particularly void of animal life, he wasn't sure if he could stomach it at the moment.

The few shrubs poking out of the dusty ground were dry and bland, but the roots were decent enough for consumption. He scrounged around until he came up with a handful of them and then made a small pile on top of Ande's tattered, purple cape.

The juniper trees were full of berry-like objects. Loki plucked one from a branch above his head and rolled it between his skinny fingers.

Edible? He had no idea. He used his nails to break open the thick skin. Well, it seemed safe, at least. He popped the broken berry in his mouth and chewed.

Bitter. Dry.

Disgusting.

But it was still food, so he continued picking the blue-grey berries until there was a decent sized pile next to the roots.

Cooking the food was proving to be a bit of a problem. He didn't dare risk a fire now that night was falling, afraid that the smoke in such an open area would alert their enemies to their presence.

There was always the option of eating raw, he supposed.

He extracted a large, flat stone from the dust, brushed it off, and placed a handful of juniper berries on top of it. With a smaller stone, he crushed them into an unattractive mush, which he scraped onto another, slightly bowl-shaped rock.

The roots from the shrubs were easily sliced into small circles with a sharp stick, and when mixed with a bit of sage, tasted quite good uncooked.

Pleased with his work, he brought both dishes of food over to the shade where Ande was asleep. He gently prodded her awake. She was startlingly pale in the dimming light, except for her cheeks, which were flushed a bright red from her fever. Quickly, he placed the back of his hand on her forehead. Still burning- the fever hadn't broken yet, and, in fact, seemed to have worsened in the past half an hour.

"I brought food," Loki whispered, pushing a rock covered in berry mush into her skeletal hands. Gingerly, she accepted it, but made no move to eat.

"Eat," he commanded, passing a flat stick over to use as a spoon. She just stared blankly at the ground as if she didn't comprehend what he was asking.

The dried trickle of blood that was caked on her face reminded him that there was obviously something wrong with her mouth. Of course, he'd been stupid not to have remembered that earlier.

He removed the stone and stick from her hands and moved his fingers to her mouth. She didn't try and stop him, instead keeping her eyes trained on the dirt.

Loki gently pried open her chapped lips and was repulsed by what he found.

Her tongue was brutally nailed to the roof of her mouth.

Loki was sickened. He wanted to bend over and heave up anything in his stomach, and he had to try very hard to resist the urge. Just the thought of her having to live through that pain for seven years made his blood boil. It made his whole body tremble with fury.

But now was not the time to act that way. He had to get her help.

He leaned in for a closer inspection of the wound. It was infected, obviously. He was fairly certain the nail was rusty, but that could just be dried blood. It had long since stopped bleeding, however, and tissue had started to grow around the foreign object, as if it was accepting it as its own.

Loki knew he couldn't do anything about it here and now. It would only cause more pain for him to try and remove it. He was by no means a medical expert, and since his healing magic was limited to minor cuts and diseases, it wasn't safe. If anything, the situation would worsen from him taking the nail out.

It also meant that she couldn't eat. Fluids were an option, he thought, but any sort of solid food was definitely out. Unfortunately, he had no idea as to where a source of water could be. He'd been planning on finding one in the morning- even gods can become dehydrated after a long enough period of time.

She needed food. Her ribs were protruding unhealthily from her torso. She was almost literally skin and bones.

Quickly, he crafted together two options:

Option 1- They could wait it out until morning, find a water source, and go for help.

Option 2- He could leave her unattended in the dark and search for water nearby.

Option one was more favorable, but she needed something in her system, and she needed it _now. _Her immortality had worn off now that they had left the cave, and she wouldn't last long without sustenance.

"I'm going to find water," he said, brushing his thumb across her hollow cheek. "Don't go anywhere."

No response.

He stood and left, placing a weak concealing charm around the tree. It wouldn't be able to keep humans out, but hopefully it would discourage wild animals from going near her.

Loki hiked for nearly an hour with no luck before he stopped and climbed a tree taller than the rest. From his elevated perch, he could see for miles, all the way to some sort of small city further west. They would have to avoid that or risk being caught.

The landscape was basically unchanging and constant, with a few clumps of brittle bushes here and there, the occasional cacti, and juniper trees scattered throughout. A helicopter hovered overhead, its rotors cutting through the air almost silently.

No water, from what he could-

Helicopter.

Loki snapped his head towards the sky, shrinking down from where he sat. Yes, a sleek, black, military copter was circling above him, and in the dark night, it was difficult to make out the faint writing adorning the sides and bottom.

He squinted up at it, trying to read the writing. He could just discern an 'S' and an 'E' when a bright search light snapped on, nearly blinding him.

Automatically, he dropped his gaze and rubbed his eyes, attempting to get rid of the black spots dancing in front of him.

While he was momentarily blinded and distracted, he barely noticed the mortal machine landing softly on the desert ground next to him. He didn't notice the agent, who was dressed in black, pull out a gun and shoot something into his forearm.

He was fighting a black-out as he fell out of the tree.

He was unconscious by the time he hit the ground.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note: _Hi, everybody. I'm really sorry (again) about the delay for this chapter. I hope you aren't holding it against me. I'll be able to update more freely once school gets out on June 1st. I promise more frequently posted chapters then.**

**Thank you all so much for the outstanding feedback I've received for this. Again, once summer hits, I'll be able to respond to every review because I'll have more time. But I really do appreciate it.**

**So who saw the Avengers? Who cried when a certain agent did a certain something? I did. I sobbed. I'm in post-Avengers depression again, which can only be alleviated by seeing Avengers 2.**

**Unfortunately, Joss Whedon hates us all.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist **


	8. Chapter 7

**Vulnerable, Chapter 7**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

A cool, grey light filtered dimly through the drawn curtains, illuminating the room just enough to make out its contents. Loki made an attempt to sit up, but found that it was in vain, for restraining bands criss-crossed their way over his wrists and chest, securing him to the hospital bed.

Where was he?

He tried to recall what had happened to bring him here, but the last thing he remembered was... Actually, he couldn't remember his last memory.

Vaguely, something tugged at the back of his mind, but it refused to surface. Irritated, he relaxed his shoulders and settled onto the stiff mattress, covered by his thin blankets. He stared at the ceiling for hours, memorizing every dent and making patterns out of the rough surface. Dull.

After some time, he fell into sleep again.

Nightmares.

They plagued him that night. First, he was hanging off the broken Bifrost bridge, watching his father mouth the words "No, Loki," back at him. Even in his unconsciousness, he felt his heart shatter into millions of pieces, and he let go, falling into the abyss.

Then, the dream changed. He was young again, maybe fourteen in mortal years. He was perched on a stone bench in a garden, accompanied by an unfamiliar girl. The night sky was lit up with brilliant colors, and this girl rested her curly-haired head on his shoulder. He turned to glance at her, trying to place her face in his mind.

Suddenly, that face contorted: grey eyes turned a deadly, poison green; curly brunette hair evolved into straight blonde. The demon girl smiled, showing a row of slightly pointed teeth. It was Amora, the enchantress of Asgard, but what was she doing in his dream? She leaned up and pressed her lips to his throat, fangs sinking into his flesh.

Again, the vision switched. He was older now, standing on a street corner in modern day New York City. Except, the buildings were crumbling, the concrete cracked and bulging. His familiar horned helmet adorned his head, a scratch on which was currently bleeding freely.

But he wasn't concerned about that. The rooftop adjacent to him was much more interesting at the moment. A lone figure stood atop it, crossbow loaded and aimed. He traced the path with his eyes. His gaze landed on Thor; defenseless, clueless Thor, his ex-brother.

The crossbow fired. Thor dropped. His dream-self laughed.

Loki jolted back awake, sweating and shaking profusely. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think straight. He was still in the same strange room as he had been the previous night, except now he wasn't alone. The door was propped open this time, and a man and a woman who Loki assumed were doctors were quietly conversing off to the side.

They apparently hadn't noticed he was conscious once more, seeing as they continued on with their conversation as if he couldn't hear them.

"-tests show considerable brain damage-" he heard the female whisper. "-a lapse in memory is likely."

The male doctor was silent for a brief moment. "Should I increase security? Depending on how much he remembers, he may still think he's trying to take over the world-"

Loki couldn't take it anymore. He cleared his throat just loud enough to startle the two of them.

He got the desired effect- the woman nearly jumped out of her skin, and the man let his papers slide through his fingers and scatter across the floor.

The male doctor quickly composed himself and approached Loki with caution. "Mr. Odinson-" he started to say.

"Don't call me that," Loki snarled. "I am the son of Laufey, you ignorant mortal."

The doctor was taken aback at the sudden proclamation. Nervously, he glanced at the woman, who urged him to continue.

"Alright, Mr. Laufeyson, I am Dr. Huxtable. How are you feeling?" Huxtable moved closer and reached for Loki's wrist, checking his vitals. Loki didn't respond and eyed him warily.

When the doctor had finished taking his pulse and adjusting the IV that was currently trickling into his system, he pulled up a round chair and perched on it.

"Where am I?" Loki whispered, tone sharp. "Don't lie to me, and don't sugarcoat anything."

Dr. Huxtable sighed, tapping his pen on the edge of his seat. "You're in a hospital," he replied simply.

"Obviously," Loki spat. "You could stand to be a bit more specific."

"Okay," the doctor relented. "You're located somewhere within the Rocky Mountains, inside a hospital room in the resistance headquarters. You're recovering from a rather nasty head injury."

Loki averted his eyes, letting this new information sink in. "The date?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Huxtable asked.

"The date! What is today's date? Holy Yggdrasil, you mortals are more ignorant than I thought."

"Today is..." Huxtable's voice trailed off as he consulted his clipboard. In his mind, Loki scoffed at this obvious display of stupidity.

"Today is December 7th, 2021," he finally answered, pausing to watch the god of mischief's reaction.

"That's impossible," Loki muttered. "Last I remember, it was May 4th, 2012. Surely, I haven't been unconscious for nearly ten years."

"No, you're right. You've been unconscious for approximately two and a half days at the most." Huxtable's voice was sickeningly slow, as if he was speaking with a mentally ill person. Loki fought back the urge to vomit at the honeyed tone.

Loki was quiet for a long time, trying to work this out in his sharp mind. He was a god- there was absolutely no way he had spontaneously forgotten the events of nine years. That was ridiculous. It left only one option: Dr. Huxtable was clearly lying to him.

"You're wrong," Loki growled, putting an equal amount of venom in his voice as Huxtable had in his own.

"Pardon?" the doctor asked mildly.

"You are lying to me!" Loki exclaimed, and with a sudden bought of strength, he tore his restraints apart. "I told you not to lie. Stupid, stupid mortal."

The doctor started backing away. "Jackson," he addressed the other doctor in the room. "Call security."

"You can't stop me," Loki screamed. "I am invincible, and you? You were made to be ruled." He chuckled darkly, standing up and silently prowling towards the two, very frightened doctors in only a hospital gown. The woman tried to turn the door handle and escape, but with one look from Loki, the lock flew into place.

Dr. Huxtable tried to intervene, and he made a slight move forward, holding his hands out in front of his face. "Loki," he spoke, voice trembling. "Calm yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Loki shrieked, grabbing the stupid little mortal by his pudgy arm and flinging him against the wall, where he crumpled and lay still.

He had just turned to advance upon the female doctor when a slight tinkle of broken glass rang out from behind him. A minuscule arrow was suddenly protruding from his left shoulder. Angrily, he whirled around to tear it out of his flesh, but whatever it was tipped with had already sunk into his bloodstream.

Gasping, he stumbled and fell over, out cold within seconds.

**0-0-0-0**

I stood in front of the mirror, palms facing out, feet facing in. I'd always been told I was slightly pigeon toed. I remember being made fun of because of that by my siblings. It didn't help that I failed in practically everything that wasn't sword-fighting. Nick Fury would have done better to recruit one of my sisters instead of me.

My clothes hung limp around my emaciated frame. I'd never been this skinny in my life; but then again, I'd never spent seven years in an unlit cave without food, water, and fresh oxygen. I carefully lifted up the hem of my shirt to reveal my protruding and easily visible ribs. The pattern of scars had been distorted over the years, making them seem even more gruesome than before. But even that old memory was nothing compared to these fresh ones.

Shuddering, I let the fabric fall again, covering the bad thoughts. I smoothed back my thin hair, tucking it behind my ears. It used to be so curly and lively, but it had faded into a flat, muted brown. My doctors had told me it would go back to its natural state, given time. Of course, they also told me that I'd be able to speak again when my tongue healed, but that had yet to happen.

It had been a week since I got the stitches taken out, and I still hadn't spoken a word to anyone. I've been in solitary confinement for the time being- apparently, I was still to fragile to be left to my own devices. Sometimes, Tony would talk to me over the phone, but as I never responded, it was kind of a pointless activity. Only the doctors were allowed in my room to administer medicine, try and get me to speak, and to give me updates on Loki.

Yeah, Loki. My Loki, the same Loki who had regressed into a homicidal maniac- again. According to Dr. Jackson, he'd woken up a week and a half ago with no memory of the past nine years, and he now has the intention of destroying Earth. Apparently, all he's done so far is to ask repeatedly about Victor Von Doom's whereabouts and if the Skrulls have arrived yet. He'd mentioned me in passing, but only as "the freak of Athena".

I was trying not to hold it against him. At the moment, I only wanted to see him. I only wanted to make sure that he was still alive and still breathing. With all due respect, I didn't trust Dr. Jackson one bit. Right from the beginning, she'd been telling me only half-truths because she thought I couldn't handle the full truth.

Wearily, I perched on the end of my bed. Even standing for such a short period of time left me completely exhausted. I had a nagging suspicion that it would be a long time before I ever wielded a sword again.

For a moment, I contemplated pushing the call button so I could silently plead the nurse to let me see my husband, but I was too tired to even move from my spot, so I settled with just curling up at the foot of the mattress and flicking the TV on. I got a maximum of three channels, all innocent cartoons, but it was better than doing nothing.

As the obnoxious talking polar bear filled the screen, I let my thoughts wander back to Loki.

After being stuck in a cave for seven years with the man, you'd probably assume that one would become quite sick of him, but that was far from the truth. I desperately missed him. It almost physically hurt to be separated from him now that we'd been through so much together. I know it sounds straight from a cheesy chick-flick, but it's all true. With a heavy sigh, I rolled over onto my back.

My bony fingers absently played with my wedding ring. At least they'd left that alone when they crashed my wedding seven years prior. My dress was gone, as was my sword and shield. No one knew what had happened to them, and any effort to find the weapons was futile and far too costly. Not to mention that I wasn't fit to use them.

The door beeped and slid open with a light whoosh. Dr. Jackson waltzed in, as she always did, accompanied by a trainee, who I called Blondie, for lack of a better name. She'd never actually introduced herself, and I wasn't about to ask her what her name was.

"Ms. Hanson," Jackson greeted, blatantly ignoring the fact that my name was no longer Hanson and my title wasn't "Ms" anymore. "How are we doing today?"

I obviously didn't answer, and she didn't wait for a response. Blondie skipped over to the closed curtains and opened them with a flourish. Then, she tugged the pillow from under my blankets and fluffed it up, while Dr. Jackson checked my pulse and took my temperature. This was standard procedure and happened at least twice a day, if not more. At the moment, there weren't a lot of patients to tend to, so I assumed Jackson just got bored and channeled that boredom into work.

When it was certain that my heart was still beating, she backed off and handed her clipboard to Blondie. Blondie scribbled down every detail of what I'd done in the past six hours and then inserted the clipboard into the bedside holder.

"I have good news," Dr. Jackson sing-songed as she put another dosage of medication into my IV. I perked up, but only slightly. Last time she'd said that, her good news was only that they were serving pudding with dinner, so my hopes weren't extremely high.

With a hint of a smile on her face (which she was trying to conceal, but failing miserably at), she turned back to me. Blondie bounced her way over to stand next to the doctor, not even bothering to hide her scary grin.

"Well," Dr. Jackson began slowly. "Dr. Huxtable, Agent Hill, and I have decided that it's high time you're let out of here."

Now that _was_ good news. She wasn't lying this time. I raised my eyebrows, prompting her to continue because there was obviously more she wanted to say.

I was right, as she then continued, "We all agreed that you should start out by reuniting with Loki, like, right now. Okay? Great!"

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note:_ I'm really sorry I took so long to update. I have no excuses, but I promise that I'll update more freely once summer begins. And to any of you who also read my BBC Sherlock fic, "Mirrors", expect to see an update on that by Monday, hopefully.**

**Anyways, I hoped you liked it, and please, please leave a review! Thank you!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	9. Chapter 8

**Vulnerable, Chapter 8**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

I was led through the narrow, white corridors of the rebellion headquarters. Blondie walked slowly alongside me, keeping a gentle grip on my boney arm as she took me to my destination. She maintained a relentless chatter in her high-pitched, squeaky voice. I was prepared to bet that if she was an animal, she'd be a mouse or another small rodent.

I managed to tune her out, but she didn't seem to notice. I tried keeping track of where she was taking me, but it was useless. I was too tired to remember anything. We passed doors on our way, each labeled with the occupant's surname. I recognized a few; Stark, Rogers, Coulson... The rest were unfamiliar.

The tiled hallways were cold against my bare feet. I wished I had had the foresight to slip on a pair of shoes or slippers before we'd left. When we passed a window at one point, I looked outside to find it a bleak, white curtain of drifting snowflakes, being blown around viciously in the bitter wind.

We finally reached the place we had been heading to. It was a small interrogation room, three walls blank, and one wall comprised of a one-way mirror, so our meeting could be supervised. A pair of comfortable, black armchairs sat in the center facing each other. A glass table was placed in between them, holding a tray of teacups and a teapot. A plate of cookies was set off to the side.

Even though it was a tiny dot on the map, the revolution headquarters still managed to keep the impression of a four-star hotel. I certainly hadn't expected accommodations this nice.

Blondie guided me to the seat on the left, patted my hand in an effort to be reassuring, and exited, closing the door behind her.

It was some time before the door opened again. I had been sitting patiently, feeling small and insignificant in the large, plush chair.

Two uniformed guards led Loki in. One of his wrists had a manacle circling it. I could only assume it was a magic draining restraint. I'll admit that I felt a spot of nervousness upon seeing it. Loki hadn't worn one of those since... Well, since the last time he'd been captured by SHIELD.

One of the soldiers pushed Loki into the chair opposite me, and then they both left together, leaving me alone with the regressed god of mischief.

Obviously, I didn't say anything to him, though that wasn't necessarily by choice. No matter how hard I had tried to find my voice these past weeks, I simply wasn't able to. I wouldn't talk- I _couldn't _talk.

Loki stared at me silently, head tilted to the side, probably considering how I would look as a pair of shoes. He wasn't blinking. I shrunk back into my seat.

Eventually, he opened his mouth, only to close it quickly. He seemed to chew his tongue as he mulled over his next words before opening it again.

"You're looking terrible."

Okay. The first words out of my husband's mouth after not seeing him for two weeks told me how awful I looked. As if I didn't already know.

"It's ridiculous," he continued. "They keep telling me you're my... _Wife_." He spat the word out hatefully.

I raised my eyebrows.

"And, for some reason, I am starting to believe them. Maybe my memory is coming back, or perhaps I'm just delusional. Either way, it doesn't matter. You're still _mine_."

He smirked. I stared.

"Speechless?" he said. "I thought you might be. _Kneel_."

I shook my head. I wasn't going to. I wouldn't. At least, that's what I was chanting in my head.

"Kneel before your owner, Andelyn," he snarled. "You're mine. I own you. And I _said_ to _kneel_."

I remained seated, looking at him innocently.

"Stupid mortal," he growled, standing and approaching me. I glanced nervously at the one way mirror, silently pleading for someone to come in and stop him. Nobody did. They were probably on a lunch break, or else too involved in the spectacle to care.

He raised a hand as if to slap me. Having no desire to have a bruised cheek to go along with the rest of my injuries, I consented, and kneeled before him, head bowed. My whole body was trembling with fear.

"Yes," he purred, pleased. "That is _exactly _how it should be."

**0-0-0-0**

Two hours later, I was curled in the corner of my room, hugging my knees, sobs racking my body.

As soon as I knelt to Loki, security guards rushed in, slapping handcuffs over his wrists, and dragging him away. Blondie and Dr. Jackson quietly picked me off the ground and brought me back to my room.

I was such a coward. Why did I kneel to him? He was my husband. He was supposed to be my equal. I was so _weak. _I was a repulsive, sniveling, scrawny wimp. I disgusted and despised myself.

But how could he have done this? I know he'd lost his memory, but even before, he had never acted like this. During the battle with the Skrulls, there was still a shred of hope left for him. But now... Now there was nothing.

And that _hurt_. It physically hurt to see him look at me and consider me a lesser being. It pained me to know that every moment we'd shared together had disintegrated.

Loki was gone again, and this time, it didn't seem like we could bring him back.

A door opening brought me back to reality. Dr. Jackson stepped in, and for once, she was silent. I stared at her through blurry eyes.

"We have him contained," she whispered, walking towards my huddled form with quiet footsteps. "He's changed, though."

When I didn't respond, she went on. "Now he's asking- no, _begging_- specifically for you and his brother. He wants to see you again."

I bit my lower lip until the rusty taste of blood filled my mouth. With the back of my hand, I wiped away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes again.

"He still sounds angry, but not as angry as before. He might be regaining his memories from before." She was trying to sound optimistic, but I knew that she was lying. I was no medical expert, but I somehow knew that even if he could go back to how he used to be (which was unlikely), it wouldn't be so soon.

"Would you be willing to see him again? It might speed up the recovery process to see familiar faces. If not, we could use Mr. Stark instead, as Thor is still inaccessible."

I rested my chin on my knees and thought about it. I was scared. No, I was _terrified _of him. Just thinking about the way he looked at me made me shake and feel nauseous. I think this actually topped my fear of spiders, which had been my greatest fear up until now.

Loki was dangerous. He was a cauldron of rage and anger that had built up over time, stewing until it finally boiled over. Considering how his last memories consisted of Odin telling him he was adopted, scorning him, and how he had then tried to take over the world, he was more dangerous than ever.

But I needed to help him. If there was anyway to do that, I had to take the opportunity. I loved him, even if he didn't love me anymore. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if there was something to be done to help him and I hadn't done it. That love replaced my fear of him.

Something stirred in my stomach. I removed my hands from my legs and placed them on my lower abdomen. I must be catching the flu. But with my luck recently, I probably had cancer or something.

"Yes," I said, saying my first word in over nine years. My voice was weak and hoarse and cracked from not being used. "I-I'll see him again."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_**Author's Note:**_**See, I told you more recent updates once summer hit! Well, this isn't really considered recent, but it's a fast update for me. I'm sorry it's a short chapter, though. If I had continued it, it would be about 5,000+ words, and this was the only suitable stopping point.**

**You guys are all still interested in reading, right? Oh, and if you have any ideas, please let me know. I mean, I'm full of ideas myself, but I still want to know what you'd like to see. Happy ending or sad ending? (I know; that's a stupid thing to ask because I've already written the epilogue, but I might be tempted to change if most of you lean in favor of one certain option.)**

**Thank you so much for reading, and please review. It would mean a lot to me.**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	10. Chapter 9

**Vulnerable, Chapter 9**

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The next time I saw Loki, we didn't say a word to each other. We were thrown together in the same room as before, but this time, I was assured better surveillance. It turns out that last time, the staff that was supposedly watching us _had_ in fact been on a coffee break, and when they returned, everything had spiraled out of control. They apologized profusely afterwards.

So, here we were, sitting silently in our separate chairs. Loki was intently studying me with a straight face, making no gestures or facial expressions to clue me into what he was thinking. His scrutinizing gaze made me nervous and uncomfortable, so I kept my own eyes averted, concentrating solely on the pink and yellow icing adorning the cookies set before us.

Every so often, I'd quickly glance over at him, but he was as still as a statue. It was as if Medusa had turned him into stone. His posture was rigid, muscles taught, fists clenched, and shoulders ever so slightly hunched forward. His face was blank of all emotions besides vague curiosity and distaste.

As for myself, I had sunk into the back of the armchair, knees gathered up to my chest; it was a position I'd assumed often recently, like I was physically trying to hold myself together so I wouldn't fall apart. The nurse had to trim my nails down to the bed because I'd been leaving deep indents in my skin from where I had clutched my legs close to my body.

After nearly thirty minutes locked together in the room, I figured the observers outside wanted to break the tension somehow. Over a speaker concealed in the potted plant near the door, calming elevator music began to play in a lame attempt to crack the awkward silence. It didn't work, obviously. Loki didn't change at all and neither did I.

When an hour had passed, though it seemed like much longer, they finally gave up and sent a guard in the room to escort me out and back to my quarters. Blondie was waiting outside the door to my room with a blanket, which she gingerly wrapped around my shoulders. She waved the guard off and ushered me through the door.

"How did it go, sweetie?" she chirped, guiding me over to the bed and sitting me down on it. She began to check my vitals, administering medicine in my IV.

I shrugged, not really in the mood to talk about it. "He didn't say anything to me," I sighed. She inserted the IV tube into my arm. Immediately, I felt a wave of calm wash over me as the pain medication and morphine began to spread through my body. I relaxed my tensed up shoulders and crawled under my blankets.

Blondie clucked her tongue unhappily, shaking her head. "He'll come around. He just had a bit of a fall."

She had a way of sugarcoating everything, if you couldn't tell already. That was one reason why I was starting to prefer her over Dr. Jackson. Though I obviously knew she was softening the truth, her words still gave me a bit more comfort than her superior's.

"I guess you're ready for bed, then?" she asked, walking around to draw the shades on the window. I nodded. "Do you want some sleep meds?"

"No," I said into my pillow. "I'm fine."

"Sleep well. I'll be by to check on you in the morning." With that said, she exited, locking the door behind her.

It took a few minutes, but gradually, I fell into a state of unconsciousness.

_It was the same nightmare again. It always was, and it never changed. _

_I was fifteen, strapped to a table, and bleeding myself to death from several deep cuts on my stomach. _

_All around me were bodies of the deceased and dying, wounded in the same way. Those that were still alive were in worse condition than I was, however. They'd been there longer, and besides that, they were pure mortal. _

_I had the blood of a goddess in me, which only prolonged my suffering. _

_As the life in my veins trickled out, a scarred, ugly face loomed above me. Its one eye stared maliciously down at me, mocking me. A wicked knife was grasped in its hand, and with a vicious snarl of laughter, it brought the blade down on me again, slicing through my flesh._

With a muffled scream, I lurched back into the present. With a half-hearted attempt to stop the sobs that I was threatening to succumb to, I curled into the fetal position, trying to regulate my breathing. It wasn't working. Tonight's dream had been more vivid than ever.

I'd been having that same dream since I was a sophomore in high school. Every night until I was twenty years old, I'd woken up in exactly the same way as tonight. When I got a job and began to work for Pepper, they'd ceased. I didn't experience the dream again until my first encounter with the regressed Loki two weeks ago. Since then, it was a nightly occurrence. And tonight, it was seemingly worse.

My fingers fluttered down to the hem of my shirt and I pulled it up slowly. Yes, the scars were still there, still as distorted as ever. With a sudden wave of nausea, I hauled myself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, where I was then violently sick. I collapsed next to the toilet, shivering on the icy tile.

I stayed there until morning.

**0-0-0-0**

_She'd changed. _That was the first thing Loki noticed about her when they were put into the same room for the third time. It was a month after their first encounter, and two weeks since their second.

Her cheeks were not as hollow as they had been the last time he'd seen her. Her arms were no longer boney. Clothes were beginning to hang correctly on her frame. The dark circles under her eyes were still there, but not as prominent as they had been. She looked healthier, almost as if she were… _glowing. _The doctors weren't lying when they'd told him she'd been eating more recently. He supposed he should be happy about that- that _was _what married people cared about, wasn't it?

With a mental sigh, he lowered himself into his designated chair, prepared to do exactly as they did last time and not talk.

Apparently, she wasn't having it. "We can't just sit here in silence, again, you know," she muttered. Loki arched an eyebrow.

"Can't we?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his smooth voice. "I was perfectly content to do so." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"What's the point of putting us together, then?" she asked wearily, eyelids half-closed. Her posture was different from last time as well. Instead of being curled up into herself, she was lounging in apparent comfort, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"I didn't ask to be here," he spat, straightening up. "I was hoping _you _could tell me exactly what it is we're doing here."

"I'm supposed to be helping bring you back."

"_Bring me back?_" He snorted. "Bring me back from what? There is nothing to bring me back from! _This_ is what I am." He gestured to himself. "This is what I always have been."

She blinked and stood. "No, it _was_ you. But it isn't anymore."

Without being excused either by him or by the observing party outside, she left the room, leaving him sitting there alone.

After a pause, a guard entered to collect him and return him to his cell.

"What was that?" he snarled at the confused guard as his wrists were once again encased in metal chains. "She isn't allowed to leave. I didn't tell her she could go."

"Well," the man said in a gruff voice. "Sadly, buddy, you don't own her like you think you do."

**0-0-0-0**

Thor's shoulders trembled as the weight of the sky continued to fall on them. Each day, the burden seemed to grow heavier and heavier, pressing down on his failing strength. Gods weren't immortal. They were powerful, yes, but deep in his heart, the god of thunder knew that one day, that power wouldn't be enough. The sky was slowly crushing him to death over the course of seven years.

Nobody came to help him. They were probably dead for all he knew. In the beginning, he'd tried to contact his brother through their mind link nearly everyday, but the message was always backed up. It never went through. As the years went on, his attempts became less and less frequent. Now, he'd only try maybe once a month to get through.

The last time had been roughly seven weeks ago. Again, there was nothing but a blank receiving end. Something was keeping Loki from getting and responding to his mental messages. He didn't know what.

But he still held onto hope. If his brother had died, he would have known. That was what kept him going. As long as Loki was still alive, Thor pressed on. When the day came that Loki had passed, that was the day when Thor would give up. He would let the sky crush him. With his parents and Jane likely dead, Loki was the only thing he had left.

Really, that was the sole reason he continued to try and contact his brother. He was past the point of caring about being rescued. All he cared about now was knowing that Loki was safe. That's what prompted him to make another attempt today.

_Loki, _he thought, channeling it through his brain to the link. _If you can hear me, please respond. Please, little brother. Tell me you can hear me._

There was only silence on the other end. Thor knew he shouldn't have expected a reply. His eyes began to water with unshed (and still manly) tears.

But, then… There was a faint crackle on the opposite side.

_I hear you, brother._

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note: _Hello! I think this is the fastest I've updated in a long time. I'm really glad it's finally summer.**

**If you are still reading this, please let me know. I've noticed a _slight_ decline in the number of reviews I've been receiving per chapter, and not to sound whiney and desperate or anything, but I just want to know if I've lost any readers and what I can do to make this a better and more interesting story. I am definitely not being ungrateful, though- I absolutely adore each and every one of you, whether you review or not. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	11. Chapter 10

**Vulnerable, Chapter 10**

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Shafts of golden sunlight wormed their way through the seams of the curtains, sprinkling across my blankets, under which I was curled up. Outside, despite the season, a bird - maybe a robin? - began to sing, its light whistles ringing through the cold mountain air.

With a sigh that turned into a yawn, I unfurled myself and stretched my legs, rolling onto my back. It was probably time to get up and out of bed, but I really didn't want to. I escaped the nightmare for the first time in months last night, and I was perfectly happy to lay cocooned in blankets for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, my body didn't agree with my decision.

Groaning, I leaped out of my bed and stumbled to the bathroom, dropping in front of the toilet. This was the second morning this week I'd woken up with a sick stomach.

I quickly brushed my teeth, trying to get the taste of sick out of my mouth. The toothpaste wasn't really doing the job, so I pulled a bottle of mouthwash out from under the counter.

I ran a comb through my hair, which had finally started to curl naturally again, and dressed myself in a pair of comfortable slacks and a purple shirt. I'd gained weight recently, and Dr. Jackson decided it was time I built my strength up as well.

I'd been looking forward to this day for a while, even though I no longer had my regular sword. It would just feel nice to have a blade back in my hands.

I stepped in front of the mirror on the wall and studied my appearance. My grey eyes were still dull, but the dark shadows beneath them were, for the most part, erased. Those circles would go away much faster if that damn dream would quit waking me up in the middle of the night. My cheeks had filled out again, and I no longer had an emancipated look about me. I was starting to look healthy again.

My door opened and Blondie bounced in, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. Jackson had told me I'd need to start eating in the cafeteria soon, and I did, sometimes, but I much preferred the solitude of my room. The doctor had even gone so far as to instruct Blondie not to bring me my food anymore, but she didn't listen. I'd actually become friends with the short nurse in recent weeks.

"Good morning," she sang, placing the tray on the desk in the corner. I smiled at her in return. "How are we doing today?"

"Oh, fine," I said, brushing my hair back behind my ear and pulling on a pair of socks. "I threw up this morning."

"Again?" Blondie clucked her tongue, straightening the blankets on my bed and fluffing the pillows. "Should I get Maggie to check you over?"

"Maggie? Who's Maggie?" I turned to face her, confused.

"Oh, that's just Dr. Jackson's first name. Sorry," she chirped as she gathered my dirty laundry from the floor. "But do you want to be checked over?"

"Um," I said. "I really think it's just a bug. I'm sure I'll be okay." Truthfully, I just didn't want to spend any more time with Jackson than I had to.

"Well, suit yourself. I guess I'll let you eat then. Enjoy!" She danced out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

I examined the tray before me. Today, apparently the cafeteria was serving oatmeal and toast. A glass of milk sat to the side. I didn't really have an appetite today, so I just nibbled on the toast and paced around my room.

Someone was supposed to come and collect me at a quarter to ten. Apparently, I wasn't trusted enough to leave my room alone except to go to the cafeteria at mealtimes, which I didn't. And besides, I didn't know where the training facility was.

I set my half-eaten toast down and perched on the edge of my bed.

I'd been at the headquarters for nearly two months. It had been a month and a half since I first saw Loki. Since then, I'd seen him in periodic intervals, though never for very long.

My last meeting with him had been roughly two weeks ago. I wasn't sure why they stopped sending me in there. Three days ago, an unfamiliar nurse stopped by to tell me his memory was improving, but other than that, I was left in the dark about his progress.

The door opened again. This time, it was Dr. Jackson. I mentally groaned. She smirked at me.

"Up! Up!" she cried, grabbing my forearm and hoisting me to my feet. "We're late for your appointment."

"What?" I asked, glancing at the clock. I still had fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be there. "No, we aren't."

She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "There was a time change."

I rolled my eyes, slouched my shoulders, and exited, Dr. Jackson trailing behind me. The arrangement didn't last for long, however. We were halfway down my hall when she realized I didn't know where I was going, and so she sped up to take the lead.

Already, I could tell that today would not be a good day.

But I guess it could be worse.

**0-0-0-0**

Natasha.

I'll admit it: I was surprised. I hadn't heard anything about her at all. I assumed she was on some super secret SHIELD mission, as she usually was. I was also confused that she, of all people, would be strength training me.

I didn't know Natasha could even use a sword, but she can pretty much do anything, so I should have figured.

When Dr. Jackson shoved me through the double doors into the gym, she was the person I least expected to see.

Dressed in a black, leather jumpsuit, red curls perfectly in place as always, she passed me a basketball as soon as I entered the room.

I held the orange ball in my hands for a moment, wondering what she expected me to do with it. She rolled her eyes.

"Shoot it, Owl Face." Her tone was one you'd use when talking to a particularly stupid two-year old. Yep, she still didn't like me, even after all these years.

I blinked and dribbled the ball near my feet before tossing it in the air and watching it miss the net spectacularly. Natasha sighed.

"We're going to have to work on hand-eye coordination too, I guess." She crossed the floor and scooped up the ball, easily making the basket.

I felt anger flare up inside of me. If I knew anything about myself, it was that I _hated_other people showing me up.

From a rack attached to the wall, I picked up another basketball, measured the angle in my head, and shot it. This time, it swooshed through the mesh netting. I smiled to myself. Natasha gave me an appraising look.

"Not bad, but there's always room for improvement." Actually, I think that might be the nicest thing she's ever said to me.

"Here, take this." She drew two foam swords from a plastic bin and threw one over to me. I fumbled and caught it by the pretend blade, which would have resulted in a bloody palm had the sword been real. I just see Natasha mentally shaking her head in shame at my pathetic display.

Determined to redeem myself, I flipped it around and grasped the handle, raising it into fighting position. Natasha crouched slightly, lifting her own blade.

There was a brief pause. This foam sword didn't feel right in my hands. Not only was it not balanced correctly (understandable, considering it was a _foam _sword), but I also just couldn't feel a connection to it, like I could with my old weapon.

While I was adjusting the grip I had on it, Natasha made her move. She lunged forward, catching me off guard. Thankfully, all those years of fighting and training hadn't completely disappeared. I barely had enough time to block her strike.

And then the fight began.

She was really talented, I'd give her that. It made me wonder why she preferred guns and martial arts over blade combat. She parried each of my attempted attacks with supreme skill. In turn, she pressed me hard, almost succeeding in disarming me several times.

She lashed out again, the tip of her foam blade nearly grazing my carotid artery in my neck. If the blade had been real and I hadn't ducked at just the right moment, I would have bled to death before they could get me to the hospital.

I struck out, twisting my wrist when my blade made contact with hers. There was a soft thud as Natasha's sword hit the ground.

Well, it took fifteen minutes, but I did disarm her, and that had to count for something. If anything, it proved that I was still capable of beating an enemy in combat.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Nice," she said simply.

"Thank you," I replied. We fell into an awkward silence.

I broke it by clearing my throat and putting the pretend sword away in the bin.

When it was safely where it belonged- point in the bottom of the bin, of course; we wouldn't want anyone hurting themselves on the foam blade- I turned to face her with a hopeful expression on my face. "Can I try with something real now?"

**0-0-0-0**

Three and a half hours of sword-fighting later found me back in my quarters, freshly showered, and idly flipping through a book on the Cold War. An abandoned plate of fruit sat on my bedside table, turning brown in the open air.

The book wasn't my first choice of reading material, but it was all Blondie could find for me in the meager library two floors down. Apparently, they weren't big on books here. It didn't matter, though. I was just happy to have something to occupy my time.

Suddenly, the door to my room flew open, something that had been happening a lot lately. People here weren't big into knocking either. There was no such thing as privacy.

However, the person who then entered my room was one that I had not expected to see.

It was Loki, who was currently out of breath and panting. He sprinted into my room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaning up against it. I could only stare in absolute confusion as he squeezed his eyes shut.

I was about to say something, and I guess he could sense that, because he held a finger out at me in a silent-but-furious gesture to be quiet. I snapped my mouth shut.

After a moment, flurried footsteps clattered past in the hall outside. He waited for them to fade significantly before peeling himself off the door.

As soon as he started to approach me, I rolled off my bed and crouched to the side of it, holding my book above my head in case I needed a weapon.

"Ande," he whispered, taking slow steps towards me. "Put the book down. I just want to talk."

"_Talk?_" I asked incredulously. "Talk about _what? _Two weeks ago, you were prepared to ignore me for the rest of your life!"

"Keep your voice down," he begged. "They can't find me here."

"Exactly," I spat. "You aren't _supposed _to be here. I will call them in if I have to."

"No, no." He shook his head. "That isn't necessary."

"That's for me to decide." But I lowered the book and stood up anyways. "How did you escape, and why?"

He hesitated. "I... I walked out when they were not looking. Then, I ran down here."

"They have surveillance cameras, you know," I pointed out, sitting back on my bed. He shrugged and moved to sit next to me. I scooted as far away from him as I could.

"You are the only one who will listen to me," he said. "That's why I came to you."

"Listen to you? Loki, everything you've been saying these past two months isn't true. Of course they're not going to listen to you, and neither should I."

"Yes, but you will anyways." He raised his eyebrows in an invitation for me to argue.

Damn. He had me there. "Okay, what do you want?"

"Two weeks ago, I had a... A breakthrough, I suppose you could call it," he began, gesticulating wildly. "I started to remember things again."

I couldn't suppress the shred of hope that lit up inside my heart. "Yes?" I said. "What did you remember?"

"I-" he paused again. "I remembered you, but only bits and pieces. I remembered being initiated into the Avengers. I remembered our wedding."

I blinked. "And they won't believe you?"

"No," he sighed, hanging his head. "They think it is another plot of mine, saying that I remember things only so they'll let me escape. Granted, that actually is a good plan, but I can promise and prove to you that that is not what I'm doing."

"How?" I asked, figuratively on the edge of my seat. "How can you prove it?"

"I know where Thor is," he admitted. "I can find him because I have spoken to him."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_**Author's Note: **_**My computer had a virus earlier this week, or I would have posted this sooner. Obviously, it's virus free again, so I can get back on schedule with updating.**

**I'd really like to finish this before school starts again, so look forward to many updates to come soon.**

**Hmmm… And also, there is a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter. Actually, there are two bits. Whoever can successfully point them out to me wins something of their choice.**

**Speaking of winning, I'd like to thank ****Misplaced Levity for being the 50****th**** reviewer. To her: I should be uploading those drawings very soon- I just need to put the finishing touches on them.**

**Thank you all so much for reviewing last chapter! I'm glad to know people are still reading. I love you all so much.**

**As always, thank you for reading and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	12. Chapter 11

**Vulnerable, Chapter 11**

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My fingers instinctively found their way to his, weaving our hands gently together. He seemed slightly surprised by my actions, but didn't pull away. I couldn't help myself. He looked like such a lost, little boy in that moment. I needed to comfort him; to protect him.

"Loki," I said, trying not to choke on my own words. "I… Are you…?" There were so many things on the tip of my tongue… So many things I didn't have the courage to say.

In response, he delicately his index finger over my lips, telling me to be quiet without words. Then, he slipped off from where he sat on my bed and ducked into my closet, silently shutting the door behind him.

He had heard what I hadn't. The panicked footsteps had returned outside, this time pausing when they reached my door. It cracked open and Blondie poked her head inside.

"Sorry for interrupting, dear," she said, face flushed and breathing heavily. "Loki's escaped and I just wanted to make sure he hadn't come here. Have you seen him?" She was panting between words.

My eyes flickered to my closet and back to her. "Ye-no," I finally spit out, changing words mid-sentence. Luckily, she wasn't paying much attention, trying to get her labored breathing back under control. I heard a faint rustle from my closet. My body tensed up, praying to the gods that she hadn't heard.

She hadn't appeared to, and I guess she mistook my clenched fists as a sign that I was worried. Concern flooded her wide face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart!" she reassured me. "We've got security doubled up along this corridor, so they'll catch him before he can reach you."

"O-okay," I stammered. "Yeah, that's good." She smiled kindly at me.

"Just call if you need anything." With a quick wave, she flitted away, door swinging closed behind her.

It was another few minutes before Loki emerged. I assume he was waiting just to be sure she didn't return. With a sigh of relief, he perched back on the edge of my bed.

"You are a _terrible_ actress," he said, laughing once. "I sincerely hope you haven't picked that as a future career. We are lucky she isn't very intelligent."

I reached behind me and tugged the pillow out from under my blankets. With a glare, I smacked his face with it, growling, "She. Is. _Not. _Stupid."

I huffed angrily and hugged the pillow to my chest. He glowered, rubbing the back of his head. I knew he was exaggerating his pain to make me feel bad, though. It couldn't have hurt that much. And besides, he deserved it.

"Whatever you say, Love," he sneered. I felt my heart clench. He had called me 'Love' again.

"Explain to me what you said about your brother," I ordered.

He turned so he was sitting cross-legged at the foot of my bed, mirroring my own position. Then, tentatively, he reached his hand out and grabbed mine, clutching to it desperately.

"Do you remember how Thor and I can communicate telepathically?" he started, using his thumb to rub small circles on my palm. I nodded slowly, closing my eyes. This was the first time in almost a decade that we'd had meaningful, physical contact, and _holy Aphrodite, _it felt nice.

"I heard him again," he whispered, scooting closer to me.

"What did he say?" I murmured, shifting so our knees were touching.

"He's dying, Ande." Loki's voice was full of pain, and it tore through me. I hated seeing him like this. "And not a single person here believes me."

My eyelids fluttered open. His face was so close to mine, I nearly jumped out of my skin upon seeing his dark-green eyes looking straight back at me.

In a voice as calm and as steady as I could manage, I said, "I believe you."

That was all it took. Loki practically lunged forward, pulling my body tightly against his. He mashed our mouths together hungrily. I let my senses envelop me, tangling my fingers in his hair while his lips caressed my face and throat. His arms circled around my waist and, gently, he shoved me back so we were both lying down.

My brain was rushing. _I had to stop this. I had to. _It was likely that he was taking advantage of me. But… he _never _lied about Thor. Their bond was too deep as brothers. He would never lie about Thor being in danger. Of course, that didn't mean he was telling the truth about remembering me.

In the last few seconds before my mind turned to mush, I shoved him off of me and scrambled to the other side of the room. Holding my head between my hands, I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, knees once more tucked to my chest.

When my breathing was under control again, I looked up. "You can't just _do _that to me." I sighed. He was wearing a completely and utterly confused expression.

"Why not?" he demanded, straightening up.

"You… Just… You _can't. _Were you even telling me the truth when you said you were remembering me?"

"Yes, of course," he said smoothly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

_Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're the god of mischief,_ I thought bitterly.

"Then tell me something that you wouldn't know unless you actually are remembering me," I told him, rubbing my forehead.

"You have a cat named Mercury."

"Something besides that." I didn't like to think about Mercury. I had loved that cat, and it was extremely likely that he was dead now.

"You're still a virgin."

I rolled my eyes. "Practically everyone knows that," I huffed. "Pick something else."

He heaved a sigh of exasperation and stood, crossing the room to stand in front of me. He offered his hands. I accepting and he lifted me up. Then, he tilted my chin up to look at him. His gaze was smoldering.

"Your name is Andelyn Minerva Odinson. Your mother is the Greek goddess of war and wisdom. Your favorite color is purple, and your favorite food is yogurt. You like cats more than dogs, and you're most afraid of spiders. Your dream is to be a school teacher, and you've never visited Olympus."

I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head. "Let me finish," he instructed. "You love when I do this -" He stopped and kissed my head, directly above my right ear. I shivered under his touch. "- but you hate when people touch the backs of your knees."

"You despise tomatoes and celery." He paused in the middle of his speech and moved his hand down to my stomach. "And never told me where you got these scars."

I felt panic begin to wash over me. I remember how once, when we'd been dating for nearly six months, he'd caught me off guard as I was putting my shirt on. He'd seen the scars crisscrossing my lower abdomen and asked where they came from, but I refused to tell him. Until now, he had never brought them up again.

"Fine," I said, curling away from his touch. "Fine, I believe you."

He cupped my chin in his palm and gently pressed his lips to mine. "I still love you," he whispered. "And I am so, _so _sorry for everything."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note: _I'm really sorry for this short chapter. There is more I want to write, but I feel that it would be best to put it in the next chapter, which should be coming soon. I hope you all aren't mad at me for the length.**

**I'm also really sorry about the fluff, sobby, sappy stuff in this chapter. I felt like these two finally needed a happy moment. Also, I'm terrible at describing kissing, if you can't tell.**

**Oh, and a special thank you to Ninjas and Anonymous Loki Fangirl! They both left very kind, anonymous reviews, and I'd just like to say thank you. **

**Thanks for reading, everyone, and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	13. Chapter 12

**Vulnerable: Chapter 12**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Three weeks had passed since Loki had escaped to my room. They were weeks of sitting around, doing practically nothing. Not literally, of course. No, the training sessions with Natasha had kept me up and moving during the day, and huddled in a heap on my bed from exhaustion at night. She'd said I was improving, so at least I had something to show for my efforts. We'd progressed from using foam and wooden swords to using real, steel blades. Nat had also incorporated running into my schedule. I had blisters coating the bottoms of my feet and bruises on my knees from tripping over everything.

I knew she thought I was hopeless.

But I guess it could be worse.

We hadn't done a single thing to find and help Thor. Loki was infuriated. The doctors were finally starting to believe that he had gotten his memory back somewhat, but they refused to accept the fact that Loki had a telepathic connection with Thor. Maybe they thought Thor was already dead and Loki was just lying. Maybe they were just concerned that Loki was only doing this in order to escape headquarters. Loki had explained to me that he was the only one who would be able to locate Thor. The hypothetical rescue team would need Loki's help in order to track down the missing god of thunder. And because they wouldn't let him stray fifty yards from his own bedroom, he assured me that it was unlikely they'd ever rescue his brother.

I tried to stay on the positive side of things, but after three weeks of no contact from Thor through Loki, the situation was, if possible, becoming more and more desperate.

There was nothing Loki and I could do at the moment, and so we clung to each other in the darkness.

Every night, after the rest of the facility was asleep, Loki would slip past his guards and come find me. We'd take walks through the hallways illuminated by small nightlights. Once, we even managed to find our way to the roof. Even though the temperature was near freezing, it was peaceful up there. It was an escape from the crushing reality.

We'd stay together for a few hours, but then we always had to return to our separate rooms.

The nightmares were getting worse and worse as each night passed. It was becoming a terrible routine. I woke up in a cold sweat every morning with a queasy stomach, and then I'd have to stumble to the bathroom so I could be violently sick into the toilet.

This morning, after I brushed my teeth and tried to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth, I crawled back into bed instead of collapsing on the tile for Blondie to find me later. Outside, the cheerful serenade of a robin filled the air, like every morning. Today, it was louder than usual. It seemed to be right next to my window. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, so I lay there, listening to the robin's tune.

_Crunch. _

My eyes snapped open and I sat straight up in bed.

Something had just _eaten _the little robin.

There was a coughing noise from behind the glass. Warily, I crept out from under the blankets, grabbing the plastic butter knife I kept on my bedside table. I knew it wouldn't be of much help in a fight, but it was better than nothing.

With as much stealth as I could muster up, I crept towards the window, butter knife held out in front of me, ready to impale both monster and human alike. Quickly, I slid the latch and flung the pane up, sticking my head out into the chilly air.

"Oh, my gods," I muttered, letting the butter knife slip from between my numb fingers.

Without a second thought, I clambered up onto the sill and swung my legs out the open window. My room was, thankfully, on the ground floor of the facility, or I would have probably lost my balance and fallen out. I lowered my bare feet to the frosty ground, ignoring the piercing cold.

"Mercury," I whispered, scooping the black ball of fur up into my arms.

It was my cat. _My cat. _All this time, I figured he had been dead or lost, but apparently I was wrong because here he was, safe and warm and covered in robin feathers.

He purred happily, nuzzling further into my chest. "Stupid cat," I said, shaking my head and smiling. "You're too smart."

I hoisted myself back up on the ledge and slipped back into my room, closing the window behind be. Then, I deposited Mercury unceremoniously onto my bed. He hissed and stalked over to my pillow, curling up on top of it.

I stood in the middle of my floor, watching him carefully. I could hardly believe that a cat had somehow managed to make his way from a mansion in New York, across the continental United States, avoid the chaos and destruction that now spanned the country, and had found me in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. It seemed impossible.

Mercury stared at me, flicking his tail lazily. He hadn't aged a day since I last saw him.

All at once, I started laughing. It was an exasperated, giddy sort of laugh, and I collapsed across the middle of the bed, arm folded across my stomach, trying to stop myself from laughing. This whole situation was ridiculous.

There was a knock on my door.

I assumed it was Blondie, here to bring me my breakfast, so I called out, "Come in!"

It wasn't Blondie, though. It was Natasha. I nearly leapt out of my skin when she waltzed in holding an armful of white and purple clothes.

"N-Natasha," I stuttered, getting to my feet. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mercury give her a distasteful look. Natasha saw this, too.

"You have _got _to be kidding me. Is that the same cat?" she asked, dropping the clothes on the chair near the door. Before I could respond, she continued, "Whatever. You need to change into these and meet in room 719 in an hour."

"What for?" I pulled on the hem of my t-shirt.

"A meeting," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not sure what it's about." She shrugged and left, closing the door with her hip.

Eyes still on the door, I reached over and scratched the soft fur behind Mercury's ear. He purred, leaning into my touch. My gaze wandered to where he still sat on the pillow. "I'm glad you're back," I muttered. He blinked his blue-green eyes.

I pulled my hand away and maneuvered over to where Natasha had left the clothes. I snatched them up and laid each article out on the blankets. The cape was a different shade than I used to have, darker and made of satin. The dress seemed to be more fitted and shorter. The sandals were obviously my original pair, but they'd had quite a bit of work done on them. I set the sleek, white owl mask aside. Clearly, whoever had made this was going for a sexier look.

They wanted me to be Andromeda again.

The Avengers were reassembling.

**0-0-0-0**

One hour later, I had my nose stuck in a map of the facility, attempting to find room 719. So far, I'd taken three wrong turns, had to backtrack a dozen times, and then, finally, found the string of hallways the lead to the meeting place.

I was right about one thing – The dress was certainly much more fitted than my old one, particularly around my abdomen. It was constricting, a bit suffocating, and it also made me look slightly chubby. I was feeling pretty self-conscious about myself. I'd never worn a dress this short. It barely went to my knees, and I kept tugging the skirt further and further down.

The cape, also, was far different from my old one. It had more flow and, I guess, it was also more elegant. That part I liked. The designer had also seen fit to put a thin film of bulletproof glass over the openings in the mask for my eyes. They'd been going for sexy, but I was far from it.

At long last, I found the double doors that led to room 719. Gratefully, I pushed them open and entered.

Everyone was already there and seated, except for Natasha, who was leaning against the wall opposite the entrance. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had gotten a costume upgrade. The Black Widow's leather cat-suit was, if possible, even tighter than before. Clint was wearing a pair of purple tinted sunglasses and a sheath of wickedly sharp arrows was slung over the back of his chair. Steve's usual pair of red boots were several shades darker so the color now resembled blood, and his spandex costume was very 1940s-esque. I had no doubts that Coulson had some sort of input on the captain's outfit.

Tony and Bruce were busy playing hangman together, dressed in their regular clothes. I pulled up a chair across from them. Tony stuck his fist over the table and we brofisted. It's good to know that even in the middle of a worldwide disaster, some things would never change.

Steve cleared his throat from where he sat at the head of the oval table. "Right," he began in his commanding voice. "I'm glad everyone could make it. It's nice to see you all again -"

"Cut to the chase, Cap," Nat said from behind him.

"Okay," Steve continued, not commenting on Natasha's rude interruption. "I'm sure you all are curious as to why you've been summoned, and I think it's best to just show you the video."

In front of each person, a square of the table retracted, revealing personalized television screens. They flickered to life and began to play the footage.

The video started with news footage of a massive explosion in Northern Ireland. The caption at the bottom of the screen declared the death toll to be in the thousands. Shrapnel and chunks of debris flew from all around the explosion, barely missing the camera man. Fires erupted all around the blast site, sending out more smoke to fill the already ashy air.

The film cut to a scene in China recorded on a mobile device. A long line of people of all ethnicities were shot on camera, crumpling to the blood soaked ground. One Arabian woman was clinging desperately to her young child, tearfully pleading to spare the kid. The authorities disregarded her begging and both she and the child were shot down instantly. I repressed a sickened shudder at the sight of them.

I looked around the table at the various reactions to seeing this. Tony was watching with a calm curiosity, though from the way his hands were clenched on the table, it was clear that the footage was affecting him as well. Bruce had also quit watching and was now staring at the ceiling. He looked like he was either about to cry or explode in rage. Steve saw that I looking around and offered me a sad half-smile that I couldn't return.

I let my gaze fall back to the video. The scene had changed again. Now, it showed the White House, except it was no longer white. It had been painted a bright, evil red that looked more like blood than paint. A huge mass of people covered the front lawns, seemingly waiting for something to happen. The camera zoomed in.

The Red Skull was standing on the balcony, crying words out to the crowd, but I couldn't tell exactly what he was saying. Next to him was a man (or woman) wearing a white, pointed mask with high, playfully arched eyebrows and a skinny goatee painted on it. An Eye of Providence amulet hung around the masked person's neck.

Red Skull said something that made the entire crowd ripple, and at once, the knelt on the grass before him, bowing to the German madman.

The film cut off and the screens went black.

"We're stuck in the middle of a global disaster," Steve announced gravely, arms folded across his toned chest.

"Where's Fury?" Clint asked, reclining in his seat with his feet propped up on the table.

"Disappeared," Bruce said, face still facing the ceiling, but his eyes were closed. "A week ago, he packed up his stuff, and left. He hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"Agent Coulson's in charge of SHIELD now," Natasha chimed in. "He's made some changes to our attack plan."

"Changes?" I spoke up curiously. "What sort of changes?"

"Well," Steve said. "For one thing, Loki is being released from surveillance and will be joining the team again."

"_Seriously?_" Natasha asked in disbelief. "He's psycho."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something rude to her. The sharp taste of blood pervaded my mouth.

"Director Coulson knows what he's doing, Tash." Steve turned around in his seat to stare at her. She didn't even wince. "I trust his judgment, and if he wants Loki on the team, he's going to be on the team."

"Okay." She threw her perfectly manicured hands up in mock surrender.

"Good. The next thing he's changed is putting Stark in charge of weapons developing and manufacturing. According to him, it should increase our supplies by fifty-nine percent in the next three months."

"Sixty-eight percent," Tony corrected. Steve rolled his eyes.

"The third thing he has done is giving Dr. Banner and Mrs. Foster-Odinson full access to the labs."

"What for?" Clint asked, twirling an arrow between his fingers.

"We're trying to make transportation to Asgard and Olympus possible," Bruce explained. "Both places have shut down communications and travel to Earth entirely." Clint nodded in understanding.

Steve continued. "The most important thing Director Coulson's changed is that starting tomorrow, all efforts will be focused on searching for and rescuing Thor. That's what we needed all of you here today for. The Avengers will be leading the search-and-rescue team."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note: _In case any of you are wondering, the mask that the man/woman standing next to Red Skull is actually a real mask. Search "V for Vendetta mask" on Google and you should be able to find a picture. On the subject of masks, Ande's mask is the cover picture for this story. **

**I have a poll set up on my profile. I need to get these votes before I can finish the story. Please go and cast your vote!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! **

**PLEASE VOTE, and also tell me what you think of this chapter in a review! **

**-SketchbookPianist**


	14. Chapter 13

**Vulnerable, Chapter 14**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

They didn't let me go.

I wanted to scream, to hit, to kick, to rage at stupid Steve Rogers for not picking me to go with. I wanted to break something, anything. I wanted to shove Clint Barton for volunteering to take my place.

But the fact still stood: a dangerous mission to Boston to rescue the god of thunder was no place for a pregnant woman.

Yeah. Me. Pregnant.

Three months pregnant, to be exact.

Blondie had been the first to suggest the possibility a few hours after the meeting when it was decided to bring back Thor. She'd been keeping a list of all my symptoms for the past month or so, and when she showed the list to Dr. Jackson, I was immediately bustled off for testing.

Now I was pacing back and forth across my room, positively fuming. There was no way I could possibly be pregnant. No way at all. None. The human reproduction system just didn't work like that. It was a fact: in order to become pregnant, someone first has to have... well, that. And I hadn't. I had definitely not done that. Ever.

My eyes started to sting. I fell backwards and collapsed on my bed, burying my face in my hands. How would I even explain this to Loki? I couldn't even explain this to myself. He'd obviously assume I'd cheated on him, which I hadn't. He'd be furious. He'd want nothing to do with me ever again.

Something soft and warm leaped onto my lap and curled up there. I scratched Mercury's head miserably, letting tears flow free now. My friends and my husband were going on a mission without me, and I had to stay back here, doing nothing, and worrying constantly.

This was so messed up.

Someone knocked on my door. "Come in," I said, assuming it was Blondie.

I was wrong.

"So," Natasha drawled from the doorway. "Boy or girl?"

"They don't know," I said, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table. I snuck a quick glance at the mirror across the room. I looked terrible. "Said they won't be able to tell for a while."

"It's not exactly a secret; we all know about you and Loki sneaking out every night. I don't know why you're acting so surprised that this would result from that." She sidled over to the chair by the dresser and sat down.

"But we haven't done anything!" I spluttered at her. "He and I, we're still - well, I don't know about him, but I'm still-"

"Anyways," she cut in, "your personal life is not what I came to talk about. Rogers sent me down here to see if you wanted to go with to send them off tomorrow. It could be dangerous, though."

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "If it's dangerous... No. I have to start thinking of this now." I pointed to my stomach.

"Fair enough," she said with a shrug, standing to leave. Then, she paused half-way out the door. "Though, for the record, I've known you were pregnant for a while now. Woman's intuition."

And she left, shutting the door behind her with her hip.

**0-0-0-0**

"This is the worst plan I have ever heard of," Loki muttered under his breath as the enormous train snaked to a stop behind them.

Tony shrugged off his worries easily. "Eh, we'll be fine."

For some reason, the god of mischief wasn't very reassured.

"This is where we get on," Clint reminded the other two, slinging his sheath of arrows back over his shoulders. Around them, station workers were loading the huge compartments with crates and boxes and jugs, ready to be shipped to other locations in the remnants of the United States. This train was also their way east.

Currently, the three of them were crouched behind a mountain of wooden crates full of fabric. At every minute, Loki expected them to be found and taken somewhere to be executed and the whole gig would be up. Sneaking on a national train in order to get to the Boston area and hopefully rescue Thor? When the idea was first proposed, Loki'd figured it was a joke.

But there they were.

"I'll go first," Tony offered, and before anyone had the chance to protest, he'd slipped away.

Clint didn't say anything, instead just nodding his head in the direction Tony had gone. Then he disappeared as well.

The train whistled, and a sound of hurried feet indicated that the workers were clearing off. His ride would be gone soon, but still, he hesitated. A nagging feeling in his gut told him that their mission wasn't going to end well. He could leave now, sneak off back to base.

He could leave his brother in the hands of two mortal idiots.

"Okay, then," he whispered to himself. He heard the squeal of wheels on the track, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Loki flung himself around the side of the crate, coming into full view of anyone who happened to be looking. Thank Odin, the station was now empty.

Without another pause, he sprinted across the grimy platform, trying not to breathe in any smoke. It was more difficult than it seemed.

"Faster!" Tony urged from the door of the compartment, hand outstretched. With a tremendous groan, the train began to inch along the track, picking up speed with every second.

Loki launched himself into the air mid-stride, grabbed Tony's hand, and landed face-first on the metal floor. The heavy door slid shut with a thud behind them.

"Smooth," Clint drawled. He'd found the tallest stack of crates and was now perched on top of it, but he looked more like a giant vulture than a hawk. Ignoring him, Loki brushed off his trouser legs and moved to sit on a pile of boxes that had been fashioned into a chair.

Tony frowned. "You took my seat."'

Loki cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored him.

The Iron Man huffed in annoyance and stalked off to the other side of the compartment. He began shuffling the crates around, probably to make himself a new, better than before throne.

Sighing to himself, Loki rolled his eyes. _Immature as ever, Stark. _

**0-0-0-0**

The ride was gruelingly long. Apparently, the recipients of this fabric were in no rush to get it. After the second day, the three companions ran out of food. Loki attempted to transform some of the cloth from the crates into something edible, but failed – like, _really _failed.

Tony threw a fit and spent the rest of the journey in caffeine deprived, stony silence only broken by the occasional angry muttering from his place in the corner. Clint was, well, Clint, and he hardly budged from his perch. Once, the train hit a bump on the track and the crates toppled over, taking him with them, a stream of foul language spilling from his lips.

It wasn't a very fun trip, but Loki supposed it could have been worse – after all, Romanoff could have come with. He shuddered to even think of that scenario.

They arrived in Boston mid-morning on the third day, all eager to escape the dull, dim interior of their train. The first thing Tony suggested after they'd snuck past the station guards was to hit up a bar or two. He didn't stop whining about the firm 'no' Loki had given him until Clint threatened to impale him on an arrow if he didn't shut up.

Together, the three of them walked amongst the few citizens scurrying about through the miserable streets. It looked like a scene from that post-apocalyptic film Ande had made him watch years ago. The majority of the shop windows had been boarded up, but the glass was cracked and broken. A few posters had been plastered to the walls, mostly showing pictures of Johann Schmidt and slogans that were impossible to read because the ink had smeared. Trees and grass had been left untended, and were now just dead branches and dry dirt.

They had to dress to fit the part of a person living in the poverty of the city. Clothed in tattered coats and ragged, wooly scarves and hats, the soldiers manning the street corners paid them no mind. They slipped past them quickly, Loki in the lead.

Walking through this dreary city filled Loki with a sense of miserable nostalgia. He'd been to Boston once about fifteen years ago on vacation with Ande. It used to be such a busy, crowded city. Now there was nothing but charred remains of what once had been. And that's not even mentioning the bodies laying on the sidewalks, having died in their sleep. They had no family left to move their corpses.

It made Loki wonder: _if he died then and there, would Tony and Clint bother bringing his body back to the headquarters? _

He sort of doubted it.

**0-0-0-0**

Harvard Law School, home of the finest law students this country has to offer. Well, _had_ would be a more fitting word. It was an abandoned campus, the ghosts of students long gone the only inhabitants now.

This was where they would find Thor.

Nobody tried to stop them on our way in. Judging by the faded signs, it was like a tourist attraction: "Come see the fallen god of thunder! Only at Harvard!"

Loki clenched his fists to keep himself from tearing down the posters in a rage – that would be far too suspicious an act.

Most people came to pay their respects to him, though. He was an Avenger. He was their savior, their protector.

"You'd think they'd try and guard him a little better," Clint muttered.

"They doubtlessly believe that no one would be able to perform a rescue operation," Loki chimed in, speaking for the first time in hours. "They're too arrogant to think for one moment that they could be defeated. Rather like Stark."

Glowering, Tony pushed open the iron gates, and they gave way with a loud _screech _and a cloud of red dust from the rust.

Notching an arrow in the bow he'd concealed under his jacket, Clint whispered solemnly, "After you."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_**Author's Note: **_**I can't even begin to express how sorry I am about the wait for this. How long has it been? Five months? Six? And then, I only post a short chapter that probably doesn't even make sense.**

**Now, you may be wondering, "What the heck is she doing?! Reproduction doesn't work like that! Ande can't be **_**pregnant!**_**" And I don't blame you for asking that question. Seriously, though, I will explain everything. **_**Everything. **_**Just not in this chapter.**

**I feel like I owe an explanation to you guys. I have been so stumped on this story. So. Freaking. Stumped. In fact, I even started to **_**hate **_**this – the plot, the characters, everything. But still, I said that I would see this through to the end, and I will. Mark my words. This story will come to a (hopefully) satisfying close, no matter how long it takes. I have a sense of dedication to it, considering that it was my first multi-chaptered story. **

**I sincerely hope that you readers are still out there and will stick with me through this. **

**Again, I'm so sorry. Please review!**

**-S **


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